


Quite The Stand Up Guy, Stood You Up Least Twelve Times

by warmheartseek



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2019 [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Barbara Is Strangely Supportive, Day 2: Fate/Destiny, Edward Is Submissive As Usual, Established Relationship, Hurt No Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Nygmobblepot Week 2019, Post No Man's Land
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 18:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmheartseek/pseuds/warmheartseek
Summary: Day 2 of Nygmobs Week 2019! And I am so sorry, I really went for it huh,,,,,,,,,,anyways I was listening to dont threaten me with a good time when I thought of this so blame p!atd I guess--I am gonna make up for it with tomorrow's prompt cross my heart





	Quite The Stand Up Guy, Stood You Up Least Twelve Times

Oswald pinched the bridge of his nose, mourned the times he could polish off an entire bottle of wine without second thought. He wasn’t a young man anymore and drinking copious amounts of alcohol had become a fool’s errand.

 

Oswald found himself in need of a drink far too often as of late.

 

He rolled over to the empty side of his bed; typical, though it stung worse than the numerous vodka tonics he’d thrown back the night before. Hazy images made their way back to him in the cold light of day, flashing lights of The Sirens, happy club goers moving and writhing on the dance floor. Oswald shoved into his usual corner booth, hands wrapped defensively around his glass, expression daring anyone to get close.

 

Work and drink, drink and work. It was tiresome, it was terribly lonely and above all Oswald found it horribly infuriating. He certainly didn’t have to be alone, but that decision was made for him a long time ago.

 

Oswald was elated to mend his relationship with Edward, happy to work side by side with the man he still loved so dearly. Through the nonsense of their city’s rebirth they had outlasted and swore they would continue, but Gotham was a cesspool of malice. Theirs would never be a fairy tale ending with clasped hands and strolls through the park. They were doomed to love in the shadows, the heart was a terrible thing to flaunt in a place so thirsty for blood. And for the chance to cherish Edward how he’d desperately wanted for years, Oswald would gladly pay the necessary price.

 

He only wished Edward would do the same.

 

Oswald hauled himself up with a groan that echoed through his spacious bedroom. Without that twitchy, nervous body flitting around his halls it all seemed very empty and hardly necessary.

 

“Gone again is he, Edward?”

 

Oswald smiled at the folds and wrinkles of his dog’s face, he learned even in misery that face could still bring him a semblance of joy. Though he found the name to be a bitter taste on his tongue.

 

Edward quirked his head and lumbered over to plop as much of his squat body in Oswald’s lap as he could manage. Oswald obliged the animal with loving strokes behind his ears and a kiss to his forehead.

 

“You could stop him, you know--bite his ankles or chew his shoes so he can’t leave.”

 

Oswald closed his eyes against the assaulting morning light.

 

“I suppose we both know he has no problem looking like a complete mess nowadays, so I’m not sure how much good it would do.”

 

Once the hunkered dog was coaxed from his lap, Oswald hobbled to his ensuite and stared distastefully at the bevy of pain pills on the counter.

 

_Don’t take these on an empty stomach, it will only make you feel worse._

 

_And I will know if you do._

_-E. Nygma_

 

Oswald laughed something cruel and doubtful. As if Edward really cared what he did or didn’t do anymore. The note on his morning medication served no other purpose than to prove Oswald would still do anything Edward asked of him. Oswald scrunched his nose at the pills and called for Olga to bring his breakfast upstairs.

 

Old habits die hard.

 

With his stomach full of pills taken meticulously _after_ consuming a bowl of tasteless oatmeal, Oswald set about dressing himself. Another task that seemed more like a chore without hasty hands busying themselves with straightening his tie or tucking his pocket square just right. Oswald’s mind wandered to the times those hands would get too curious and slip under his untucked shirt, tease along his stomach or grip tight on his belt loops and pull him flush against the warmth of another body. How desperate they always were to be touching, touching, _touching._

 

Oswald never found much stock in religion, but he assumed that must have been what heaven felt like. The ghost of his name on Edward’s lips while he writhed beneath Oswald’s hands. Chanted praises carried on his breath like a prayer.

 

‘ _Yes, Oswald.’_

 

_‘Please, Oswald.’_

 

_‘More, Oswald.’_

 

His name was the punctuation at the end of every incoherent sentence. The only thing that made sense while Edward was cocooned in bliss and worlds away, it became his touchstone, his everything.

 

Now it felt like a curse and a burden on them both.

 

If that was heaven, Oswald had surely found the door to purgatory. Not yet hell, there was something to be said for the universe and her infinite small favors.

 

Oswald flinched when his phone buzzed in the silence of his room.

 

Edward’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, “Did you eat before taking your pain medication?”

 

“No, but I made sure to chase them with a healthy swallow of vodka--for good measure.”

 

“Very funny.”

 

“How sweet, you think I’m funny.”

 

“In a sorry, ‘dancing animal at the circus,’ kind of way.”

 

“Now look who’s trying to be the funny one,” Oswald breathed a heavy sigh, “Where did you disappear to this time?”

 

He could feel Edward blanch on the other end.

 

“Echo and Query needed my help last night, they told me it was an emergency,” he answered less confident than before.

 

“It’s always an emergency.”

 

Oswald let the uncomfortable silence fester between them, he hoped Ed could feel his dissatisfaction from the other end.

 

“Come home tonight if you’d like, or don’t. I don’t care either way. God knows you’ll be gone by morning.”

 

“I’ll be home tonight.”

  
He wouldn’t.

 

“I’m sorry, Oswald.”

 

He wasn’t.

 

“Goodbye, Ed.”

 

Oswald snapped the phone closed with blurred eyes and a stubborn lump in his throat which he hoped Edward hadn’t heard. Countless times this happened before and Oswald wanted to be used to it, wanted to mean it when he told Edward he didn’t care. But the idea that Edward was off doing God knows what burned under Oswald’s skin and wrapped around his veins, squeezing tighter and tighter.

 

But he had an empire to run, a life outside of Edward’s dealings that needed his attention.

 

It was nice to be needed somewhere.

 

* * *

 

The day passed in a punishing pace, not the least bit helped by a nauseating hangover and Edward’s words still buzzing in his head.

 

_‘I’m sorry, Oswald.’_

 

Liar, liar, ridiculous green pants on fire. So much for fate having other plans for them.

 

“Frowning causes wrinkles, you know.”

 

Clearly the universe wasn’t feeling too generous about small favors that day.

 

“Oh, Barbara. You always know _just_ the thing to say.”

 

She hopped onto the corner of Oswald’s desk with one leg swinging.

 

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

 

Oswald’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

“But really, why do you have that look on your face--looks like you swallowed something disgusting,” she scrunched her nose up for emphasis.

 

“Choking on a lifetime of misgivings, Babs.”

 

“Don’t I know it.”

 

Oswald supposed he should feel some sort of gratitude that she was trying, it was the least anyone had done in a very long time. He patted the hand Barbara propped herself up on.

 

“I’m fine, honestly. Just nursing the result of one vice too many from your own lovely establishment.”

 

“About that, I don’t think well adjusted people knock back vodka tonics the way you did last night.”

 

“And I think you should mind your _business_ , Barbara.”

 

Oswald felt the hiss behind his eyes, served him right for snapping. Fine, he could play nice for the one person who seemed vaguely interested in his wellbeing.

 

“My apologies, I’ve just been on edge lately.”

 

Barbara laughed, “No kidding. What’s got your feathers in a twist, trouble in paradise?”

 

“More than you know,” Oswald answered.

 

“You and Riddler on the fritz?”

 

Every nerve in his body hummed, Oswald couldn’t hear save for the blood rushing in his ears. He knew his face must have given it all away but the effort to deny was instinctual.

 

“Edward and-- _really_ , if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” he managed an unconvincing chuckle, “but thank you Barbara, I needed to laugh today.”

 

Oswald knew his words bordered on madness in their frenzy but he couldn’t help it, Edward was always the dramatist, the actor, the trickster. He hated the way Barbara’s eyes bored into him.

 

“Look, Ozzie I get it. You wanna keep the whole thing under wraps for whatever reason, but I can see something’s eating at you and I’m just trying to help.”

 

Oswald threw his arms outward like he was waiting for the universe to drag him down farther than it already had. Of everyone in his life, Barbara Kean would be the last person he would see as a confidant. Fate and her mysteriously unfair ways.

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say--that everything seems to be falling down around me and I’m sitting helpless with my hands tied,” Oswald dragged heavy hands over his face, “it’s a mess, Barbara. It’s a damn mess.”

 

Barbara slid from her spot on Oswald’s desk, her hesitant hand rested on his shoulder. The gesture was stiff and uncomfortable but well meaning.

 

“You love him don’t you Oswald?”

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

“You want to keep him around?”

 

“ _Desperately._ ”

 

“Then I see a two way street here, this little thing goes both ways,” Barbara crouched to look right through Oswald, “and you’ll have to fight for it.”

 

* * *

 

Night came with a renewed sense of vigor and a partially subdued hangover. Oswald made the decision to seek out his elusive lover in whatever hovel he happened to be squatting. Coming back to an empty bedroom and no sign of Edward only fueled Oswald’s fire. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he’d get.

 

Only, Oswald hadn’t expected his opponent to lead him to The Foxglove.

 

A wretched place of debauchery and hedonism that he’d never be caught dead in until Edward’s terrible trail of clues lead him to its very discreet doors. Maybe Hell was closer than Oswald originally planned, because now he could spot its red velvet interior and smell its heady halls. Of any place to find Edward; a bar, a dynamite factory, the goddamn gutter--the truth was a less savory reality.

 

Oswald grumbled his way inside, hardly having to introduce himself to the hostess standing in very little clothing in front of a heavy curtain.

 

She gasped,  “Mr. Cobblepot. Right this way, sir.”

 

He appreciated the gravitas his name still held but resented how easily he’d been assumed into their clientele.

 

The main hall was rather classy with shocks of red a clear theme throughout the entire establishment. Men and women in various stages of undress, some in costume, some in leather, some in a combination of both. Only a few minutes in and Oswald knew this was the place to be for any niche needs that carried a heavy social implication should they be found out.

 

So why in the name of everything unholy did Edward feel inclined to participate.

 

Oswald meandered the halls for some time, craning his head into various rooms to locate his target. None of the private rooms he had accidentally barged in on showed any sign of Edward. Once again, small favors. It was only when he made it to a larger bar area that Oswald noted the mop of curly hair in a sea of fawning patrons. Men and women with their ears perked up in a desperate ploy for attention from Gotham’s own Riddler, now showing at a bonafide pleasure den.

 

Oswald stood behind Edward, a wicked smile curling on his face the moment everyone understood who’d just made a guest appearance.

 

“Fascinating story, tell another.”

 

Edward jolted from his seat and almost knocked himself over in a flurry of limbs. Most of the patrons made the smart move away from the spectacle, clearly they valued their lives over a good gossip. Oswald couldn’t say the same for Ed.

 

“Osw--what are you doing here? How in the w-- _how_ did you find me?”

 

“Call it fate,” Oswald shrugged with poison on his tongue.

 

Ed desperately looked around for his saving grace that never came. Shame really, Oswald loved an audience--something he and his paramour shared in common. A rough hand grabbed Oswald by his arm and he found himself hauled into a private room.

 

“Very impressive Edward, you seem to know the place like the back of your hand.”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

Oswald set his shoulders back, ready for round one, “I’m sure I should ask you the same question, _Ed._ ”

 

“I have a very simple explanation for this.”

 

Instead of an answer, Oswald simply found the closest seat and tried not to think about what kind of atrocities might have been performed in it. He gestured a sweeping hand towards Edward.

 

“I do so love to be entertained.”

 

Edward paced between the door and a small round table that stood between them. Cover for the fire show perhaps.

 

“I’ve been coming here for weeks now, but not for the reason I’m sure you’re thinking,” Ed started.

 

Oswald didn’t suppress his dizzying eye roll nor the scoff that followed.

 

“Will you let me _explain_?”

 

“Don’t pull a muscle from trying too hard,” Oswald shot back.

 

“I’ve been coming to The Foxglove for weeks because I appreciate the atmosphere--don’t give me that look, Oswald--and the people it attracts. Makes for interesting observations.”

 

Ed stood still, his stance wide and daring, likely long since raring for a standoff.

 

“That’s your excuse?”

 

“That’s my explanation.”

 

Oswald dug his nails into the armchair, the squeak of chair leather pitched in perfect harmony with his grinding teeth. He stood slowly, fighting every nerve that begged for a screaming match.

 

“You leave me in the dead of night to wonder where you are, no knowledge if you are dead or alive, because _you_ have the impulse to go sip grasshoppers with Gotham’s most unwanted,” Oswald pushed every word slowly between his teeth.

 

Edward shifted, his confidence clearly shaken. Oswald advanced around their green zone of an end table.

 

“Now, tell me how that sounds to you Ed?”

 

“Well I’m--,”

 

“You’re what, Ed? Tell me what you are because I certainly have a few _fucking_ ideas.”

 

Nothing from the peanut gallery. That was fine, Oswald had enough for both of them.  


“You’re a liar,” he seethed, “and you seem to have forgotten who I am.”

 

“I am not a liar, Oswald. I never lied to you.”

 

“Only about where you were and who you were with.”

 

Ed stumbled back till his knees hit a large chest at the foot of the bed.

 

“I said I was going out--I was--I told you I come here for the atmosphere and I do. I know what this looks like but I _swear_ I would never do that to you.”

 

“Do what Ed, cheat on me? Oh, forgive me if catching you in a sex dungeon amidst gawking fans swooning at your every word doesn’t instill the greatest confidence,” Oswald spat.

 

They sat in searing silence for a suffocating few minutes. Their shared anger crackled between them and Oswald thought for a brief moment about lighting a match and watching the whole place go up. His next question crept like bile up his throat, almost too nauseating to comprehend let alone ask for an answer.

 

“Do you still love me, Edward?”

 

The sustained quiet was all he needed. Oswald barked a bitter laugh while his eyes brimmed with hot tears. Something he’d always felt in his gut was nagging ‘ _told you so’_ in the echoes of his unsettled stomach. He turned away from wasted youth, from a heart that yearns for something it would never have even after being convinced it did for so long.

 

“Sometimes it makes me sick.”

 

Oswald stopped with his back still facing Edward.

 

“I love you _so_ desperately, when I think about it for too long it’s almost intolerable.”

 

The bitter laugh was back with a vengeance.

 

Oswald scoffed, “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

 

“No, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to tell me you understand.”

 

“Oh, you want me to understand. Understand that I make you sick, that you are so disgusted by your feelings for me that you can’t stand to sleep in our bed anymore, and would rather the creature comforts of this cesspool,” Oswald’s volume was getting harder to control.

 

“No, Oswald! I don’t know how I can make you hear me other than to tell you I don’t get it either. I love you, more than I have _ever_ loved anyone else and that is terrifying.”

 

Ed slumped onto the chest beneath him, head hung resigned in his hands.

 

“I’m the smartest man in Gotham and I can’t even comprehend a simple chemical reaction.”

 

Oswald hated how badly he wanted to wrap his arms around Ed and wish everything away. He wanted to comfort the man he’d sacrificed so much for and just let the world forget them. But Barbara’s words echoed in Oswald’s head, ‘ _It’s a two way street’_.

 

“No.”

 

“Oswald?”

 

Ed was looking up at him now, all doe eyes and regret. It boiled the blood in Oswald’s veins.

 

“No, Ed. You don’t get to hurt me the way you have and then run off to throw yourself a one man pity party.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“All those years ago, after the bridges blew and you came back to me, I truly thought fate was to thank. Now I just think it’s to blame.”

 

Ed abruptly stood in front of Oswald, gripping his shoulders too hard.

 

“Don’t say that Oswald, take it back.”

 

“Why?”

 

There were tears in Ed’s eyes now and Oswald wanted not to care but his hands still itched to wipe them away. Ed’s fingers pressed into Oswald’s flesh, they shook with the effort of that emotional dam he’d spent so many years building up. They’d hurt each other time and time again, but at that moment Oswald could feel the weight of it all collide with his chest. Ed’s tears were falling freely now.

 

“I know you, Oswald. You are not a man who lives his life with regret. So don’t you _dare_ pretend for a second that we even come close.”

 

Ed’s eyes were glassy and rimmed with red, his lip trembled in front of bared teeth. His breath was uneven and Oswald could feel the force of it against his cheek. Edward was fighting, he was actually making an effort, the evidence written all over his body and for a moment Oswald hated him. In that agonizing second he felt every ugly emotion he’d deserved to feel for years and years, all coming to a head at the fact he’d been forced to come this far just to get Ed to prove he still loved him.

 

“I want to hate you.”

 

Ed’s grip faltered on Oswald’s shoulders.

 

“I want to leave this room and never come back.”

 

“Oswald.”

 

He looked into pleading eyes, ignoring the fluctuating grip dangerously close to his neck.

 

“I think I know what you meant when you said you love me so much it makes you sick.”

 

With a swift hand, Oswald grabbed a handful of Ed’s waistcoat and pulled him down into a kiss he knew would hurt. Good, it would be a drop in the payback bucket. Ed whined without abandon and his grip scrambled on the fabric Oswald’s coat. Every lonely night waiting for Edward to come home, the distant memory of his touch that ghosted over his skin when the pain was too relentless and refused him sleep was bled into that kiss.

 

Oswald moved his hand up the back of Ed’s neck, entangled his hand in soft curls and pulled. He devoured the open mouthed moan against his lips, any semblance of self respect disappeared from Ed with that one desperate sound. Oswald slipped his tongue into the eager heat of Ed’s mouth, stifling his own groan when soft lips began to suck gently, coaxing him farther. He slid a bent knee between Ed’s legs and felt a sick satisfaction when Ed quickly took advantage of the friction, grinding mindlessly against him.

 

“I might believe you haven’t touched a single soul here with how shameless you are right now,” Oswald taunted.

 

Ed shook his head against Oswald’s shoulder.

 

“I haven’t--I wouldn’t, m’promise.”

 

The words were broken, strained in a way that might suggest Oswald had been working on him for hours and not mere minutes. He pressed harder against Ed’s crotch, drinking down the breathy moan of his name like honey.

 

“I should let you finish like this, an absolute mess without a measure of self-respect. I think it’s exactly what you deserve.”

 

Ed lifted his head off Oswald’s shoulder despite the weight of the world pushing down on him and pressed a messy kiss to his mouth, nearly missing in the fog. Oswald wrapped an arm around Ed’s waist and pulled him closer. Ed was heavy in his arms, hardly holding his own weight. The hand laced between curls moved farther up to bare the length of his neck.

 

Oswald trailed his lips over the spots he knew best; a long swipe of his tongue just over a pulse point, a bite behind Ed’s ear, determined teeth leaving broken blood vessels in their wake.

 

Ed was moving faster against Oswald’s leg, his breath getting shorter and higher in pitch.

 

“ _Yes_ , Oswald.”

 

He shivered with the memories of the times he’d heard that before, how beautiful it was to hear again.

 

“Is this how you want to finish, without even being touched?”

 

Ed whined loudly, dropping his mouth open and only panting harder.

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to use your words, unless you want me to stop.”

 

Oswald was only able to pull a fraction of himself away before Ed finally snapped back into reality.

 

He choked out, “ _No,_ please. Please, Oswald don’t stop.”

 

“Then tell me what you want.”

 

“I want--I want you to touch me.”

 

Oswald’s smile split his face.

 

Without another word he pulled his leg back and shot a warning glare to Ed when he started to protest. He made fast work of Ed’s pants button and zipper, not bothering with the ceremony of teasing. This was going to be quick and dirty, exactly what they both needed to bring them back to each other.

 

Oswald could have laughed at the look on Ed’s face when he licked his palm, entirely aware of how obscene the gesture was. He made hasty work of providing some kind of slip when he finally wrapped a hand around Edward. The vulnerable emotion in his face made Oswald’s heart ache. He’d only been able to hate Ed for a split second but that had been far too long.

 

He set a lazy pace, swallowing every moan of his name he could catch between messy kisses and sliding tongues.

 

“Oswald, _more._ ”

 

_Yes, please, more._

 

It was all so much, Oswald could recall every time he heard those words pour past Ed’s desperate lips. He stroked faster, yearning to hear the final exaltation of his name, the one he had earned during all those nights alone. Oswald pulled Ed closer and scraped teeth across his neck, biting down in the middle of untouched, unbroken skin. The guttural shout of his name was everything Oswald wanted, everything he needed, it was a promise in its own way.

 

Hardly able to hold himself up in the first place, Ed collapsed in a heap and brought Oswald down with him. He panted heavy breath, his head lolling back onto the chest behind them. Oswald could see his eyes drooping. Ed was notorious for how fast he could fall asleep after sex.

 

Not that it had been a mutually beneficial affair.

 

Oswald looked down at his own arousal with more annoyance than frustration. He had a point to make and now was not the time to focus on his own carnal pleasures. He was certain there would be plenty of time for that in the future. Edward seemed to be fading quickly, his eyes falling closed only to be forced back open in a weak attempt to stay awake. Oswald stood and brushed himself off, wiped his soiled hand on the covers of the bed knowing that certainly wasn’t the worst thing a piece of furniture had seen here. He leaned over Ed whose head still slowly rocked side to side and wound a hand through sweat dampened curls.

 

Oswald lifted Ed’s head up by the grip on his hair and leaned down with a ghost of a whisper in his ear.

 

“Next time, remember who you come home to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of Nygmobs Week 2019! And I am so sorry, I really went for it huh,,,,,,,,,,anyways I was listening to dont threaten me with a good time when I thought of this so blame p!atd I guess--I am gonna make up for it with tomorrow's prompt cross my heart


End file.
